Category: Teatime Tattler Page 89 of 152

The Duke needs a bride!

On June 22, 2019

Could it be true? The answer is yes, dear reader, and you read it here first at the Teatime Tattler.

Confirmation has been verified that none other than the Duke of H is back on the market and will once more be looking for a bride after Lady R returned his ring. The foolish girl. Doesn’t she know the riches she has given up by breaking off their engagement?

This paper has it on the highest authority that the young lady has returned to the country in a self-imposed exile. But the question remains… who will the Duke choose as his bride? Whoever she may be, we certainly know he won’t be choosing his last mistress, much to her annoyance. Still… Inquiring minds want to know…

Samuel Clemons read this latest tidbit from the Danver sisters and grinned. His readers will go mad with the news that the Duke of Hartford lost the lady whom some have whispered was a love match. Love… what a silly emotion getting the better of oneself.

His office door opened and Samuel handed the parchment to the young man whose ink stained fingers implied he had been busy in the press room.

“Make this a special edition,” Samuel declared with a smirk. “I want it on the front page and not buried inside. Our readers deserve to see this first thing with their breakfast.”

“Yes, sir!”

Samuel watch the man leave before leaning back in his chair. A laugh escaped him. He loved his job and was satisfied the Teatime Tattler would be sold out come the morning. Tomorrow was going to be a glorious day.

Sherry Ewing recently learned that her Regency novel One Moment In Time: A Family of Worth, Book Two was nominated as a RONE finalist with InD’Tale Magazine. It also won their crowned heart and a five star review. She is grateful to all the readers who voted for her story in order for One Moment In Time to become a finalist. Enjoy this excerpt.

Excerpt:

Edmond opened his eyes and found himself gazing into the face of an angel. Emerald pools, green as the Scottish moors, stared back at him with an expression of wonder. He reached out to lightly caress her cheek just to ensure she was real. She trembled beneath his touch and he thanked God Roselyn had awoken once more.

Swinging his legs down to the floor, he stood and reached for her hands to help her to rise. Her beautiful face wore a confused frown, and without thought he acted on the urge to assure himself she was real and on the mend, bringing her into his embrace. He knew in his heart his gesture was inappropriate; he should not be so bold, especially considering all that she had been through, but he could not resist.

Stepping back as he should became impossible when she returned his affection by placing her arms around his waist. As if they had a will of their own, his hands made their way up her arms and into her glorious curling hair that cascaded down the length of her back. It felt like the softest silk to his touch and a lock coiled around his fingers taking possession of him.

He took her chin in his fingers and tilted it up so he could see the face she had been hiding in his chest. Once more staring into her eyes, he saw her lips tremble and wondered how sweet they would taste. Leaning forward, he came to within a breath and hesitated. But only for one second. At last, he brought his mouth down to hers in a gentle first kiss.

There could be no mistaking her hesitation nor that she was inexperienced in her technique. Edmond retained enough control to remember she was a young innocent and he did not wish to scare her away. His heart rejoiced when he felt her arms creep up his back and he tightened his hold upon her. One taste would in no way satisfy the sudden desire he had for her and her encouragement gave him the permission he needed to deepen the kiss all the more.

His sanity finally reined in his desire, and he broke the spell by ending their kiss abruptly. Alarm briefly shook him when Roselyn took several steps backwards to put some distance between them. In the silence of the room, the only sound was the two of them attempting to catch their breaths after the heat of the moment.

***One Moment In Time:***
**A Family of Worth, Book Two**

One moment in time may be enough, if it lasts forever…

When the man Lady Roselyn Anne Winslow has loved since she was a young girl begins to court her, Roselyn thinks all her dreams have come true… until the dream turns into a nightmare.

Lady Roselyn is everything Edmond Worthington, 9th Duke of Hartford, could ask for in a wife and he is delighted to find she returns his love… until he loses her, not once but twice.

From England’s ballrooms, to Berwyck Castle and a tropical island that is anything but paradise, Edmond and Roselyn face ruthless enemies who will do anything to tear them apart. Can they recover their one moment in time?

Buy Links:

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More about Sherry:

Sherry is proud to be one of the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. When not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist.

You can learn more about her on the tab above or visit her on one of these social media outlets:

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Scandal in Virginia

By Guest author

On June 19, 2019

In Old West (19th Century USA), Teatime Tattler

Excerpt from The New Hope Enterprise

Dec. 29, 1863

It is a sad day indeed when we are forced to communicate such news as follows, but it is our duty to bring you even the most scandalous incidents…even if they involve one of the most highly regarded residents of our region—the venerated war hero, Colonel Johnathon P. Wescott.

Mrs. Charlotte Tisdale, a well-respected resident of New Hope reported the following, and we relay it now to you. It seems that an impromptu gala was thrown together at Lacewood by Colonel Wescott’s men, who were given leave by their beloved commander to take part in Christmas Eve festivities. It was late at night before Colonel Wescott left his post on the battlefield, but he finally appeared at Lacewood, looking as gallant and intrepid as ever such a highly esteemed man can look.

Of course, those in attendance at Lacewood included all of the eligible young ladies from the region who hoped to catch a glimpse—or perhaps even a dance—with the widowed father.

Dear readers, here is the news of which I warned you. It has been reported to us by Mrs. Tisdale (and others) that the Colonel danced the night away—not with one of the highly regarded Southern belles in attendance—but with the Yankee caretaker of his young daughter!

Yes, friends, if you live in New Hope, you know the sad story. The poor child was left motherless by the passing of his wife almost a year ago, and now the sweet darling has been left in the hands of a stranger whose reputation and character are known to us only by the gossip that trickles in by attentive neighbors.

However, we know all we need to know. Mrs. Tisdale confirmed that this woman, this Yankee she-devil, hails from New York and has a brother in the Union army. Yes, you read that correctly. A brother…In the Union Army.

Wishing to verify these rumors—which are obviously too absurd and preposterous to be accepted on their face, we discovered that the news gets even worse. It seems Miss Annie Logan (the caretaker) placed herself beneath the mistletoe when Colonel Wescott was near, and, of course, being a Southern gentlemen of the highest order, he felt obligated to satisfy the tradition that has been handed down for centuries.

My own face reddens at the thought of this conniving kiss. Who knows what else has transpired between the walls of Lacewood? We can only hope that it will not stain the character of its occupants for generations to come…

About the Book

Two people trying to escape their pasts find a connection through an old house—and fulfill a destiny through the secrets it shares. Part love story, part ghost story, Lacewood is a timeless novel about trusting in fate, letting of the past, and believing in things that can’t be seen.

MOVING TO A SMALL TOWN in Virginia is a big change for New York socialite Katie McCain. But when she stumbles across an abandoned 200-year-old mansion, she’s enthralled by the enduring beauty of the neglected estate—and captivated by the haunting portrait of a woman in mourning.

Purchasing the property on a whim, Katie attempts to fit in with the colorful characters in the town of New Hope, while trying to unravel the mystery of the “widow of Lacewood.” As she pieces together the previous owner’s heartrending story, Katie uncovers secrets the house has held for centuries, and discovers the key to coming to terms with her own sense of loss.

Sometimes love is just too powerful for one lifetime…

The past and present converge when hometown hero Will Durham returns and begins his own healing process by helping the “city girl” restore the place that holds so many memories. As the mystic web of destiny is woven, a love story that might have been lost forever is exposed, and a destiny that has been waiting in the shadows for centuries is fulfilled.

Take advantage of the low launch-week price of only $3.99, and sign up for the author’s newsletter at https://www.jessicajamesbooks.com.

BUY LINKS:

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An Excerpt

December 1863

“I think Jon has finally broken away from the ladies,” Luke said at last. “Here he comes.”

Annie turned and watched with an incredible degree of composure as Colonel Wescott strode toward her with calm detachment, pinioning her where she stood with his devouring stare. A strange sensation throbbed in her then—like the beating of a new heart—and she marveled at its power to fluster and confuse.

When he reached her he stopped, but his caressing gaze continued to play across her face. “You are aware of the tradition, I suppose.”

Colonel Wescott’s voice, Annie had learned, could be penetrating and commanding, or gentle and kind. He could easily silence an entire roomful of people without yelling or losing control—and could just as effortlessly melt her heart with the tender tones of a father.

The tenor tonight was both warm and imposing, throwing her off balance. Her eyes darted around, not understanding his meaning. “Tradition?”

He merely gestured to a place over her head, his smile widening as she took in the swag of mistletoe hanging above her.

Grasping Luke’s ruse that had placed her in this spot, Annie transferred her gaze to Luke just as he was exchanging a mischievous wink with his brother. Even Miss Benton was now brimming over with amusement.

“Do you need schooling in the ritual?” Colonel Wescott’s tone was businesslike, but the sentiment on his face was not. It reflected a playfulness, a cheerful joviality that was both infatuating and intimidating. He’d never crossed this line of familiarity with her before—and Annie was fairly sure he’d not done so with others, even those he considered close friends.

She wanted to pretend an affront, but when faced with his appealing smile her defenses melted away. Candlelight and music filled the air, exaggerating and intensifying the intoxication of her senses. Laughter and conversation blended and blurred until nothing existed but the man before her, whose smoldering eyes beckoned seductively.

About the Author

Jessica James is an award-winning author of romantic suspense, historical fiction, and Christian fiction, who combined all of her favorite things to create Lacewood.

Her new release is a multi-era, small town, clean, inspirational novel that melds together elements of mystery, history, and romance.

As someone who lives in a 200-year-old house, Jessica was intrigued when thinking about the generations of people who occupied the same home. Lacewood gives readers a behind-the-scenes glimpse of what took place in an old neglected Southern mansion before two people from the modern world stumble across it and into each other. It’s a love story that spans centuries, taking readers on a journey into the past as the house reveals secrets about a long-lost love affair.

You can find her here:

Hazardous Carriage Racing on the River

By Rue Allyn

On June 15, 2019

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Mr. Clemens

I urge you to print a severe warning to all. With this horrible weather that we have been having it is bad enough that many foolish folk wander out onto the frozen Thames in search of entertainment. All must be aware that several have fallen through the ice to the detriment of their health and for some the loss of their lives. However, even more dangerous than those who traverse the ice are the young bucks who undertake to race their curricles upon the frozen waters.

As evidence of the hazards I provide you this drawing of a typical carriage accident (this one on a road). One can easily imagine the peril of such an encounter on the slippery and fragile surface of the Thames Ice.

Please, sir, urge your readers not to venture onto that treacherous surface for fools abound and those in carriages will cause much damage and sorrow.

Sincerely,

A Very Worried Lady.

Deaths Reported in Shropshire

By Guest author

On June 12, 2019

In Teatime Tattler

Letter to London from Clun, England

Dearest Ophelia,

The most unusual and upsetting of occurrences has happened, and I wish now more than ever that Randall would leave this forsaken place and move back to civilization. I imagine the snow is beautiful banking along the Thames, and how I long for an outing to Mrs. Starling’s millinery shop. I am in dire need of a new hat and there is not a one milliner worthy of such a task here in Clun. I suppose I shall just catch cold rather than wear such an atrocity upon my head!

But back to the urgent matter at hand, the Constable here has up and died by his own witlessness. The man had some sort of infirmity and ended up dying in the woods. They found him frozen through, but thank goodness no animals had yet discovered him. Otherwise, I might have fainted straight away.

And, the worst of it, the absolute most obscene part of it, is that a woman, an odd although in other respects pretty and intelligent creature, has decided to become Clun’s new layer-out of the dead. She even enlisted her poor younger sister to aid her in such an endeavor.

I do have some semblance of sympathy for them as they did lose their parents not long ago in another entirely different grizzly affair, which I relayed to you last month. But to resort to such unseemly means to provide for themselves is more than I can fathom. I have insisted that Randall speak with her and forbid it, but he tells me there is no law against women making foolish decisions. I told him there should be. The girls are throwing away any chance of a future by making such a choice.

I am spent in writing this to you and find I must now retire for a spell to regain my spirits. All this ghastly business has worn me through.

Send my love to your sweet daughters and please do invite me to come visit for I must escape this place. . .and soon, my dear.

With an urgency to be elsewhere,

Catherine

About the Book: Lovely Digits

When two murders strike the sleepy Victorian town of Clun, England, an unlikely partnership forms. But can the killer be found before there is a third?

Lovely Digits is the town oddity…

But quirky spinster Lucy Wycliffe prefers to ignore gossip and embrace her position as the town’s layer out of the dead, despite how her parents’ deaths thrust her into such unlikely work. Lovely Digits, as she’s known to the local townspeople, no longer dreams of marriage, but takes pride in providing dignity to the dead. Desperate to hold on to her family’s cottage and support her widowed sister and young niece, an unexpected offer of employment as assistant to the constable arrives at the perfect time.

Former sailor John Brodie is the mysterious new constable…

But John Brodie is far from a stranger to Clun or the events of its past. Accepting the position as constable in the small town is a double edged sword meant to heal his past and redeem his future, but falling for the beautiful and intelligent Lucy Wycliffe was never part of his plan. As the killer closes in, will John reveal his secret and risk losing everything to save Lucy’s life?

Want to read more? Here is my Amazon Buy Link:

Excerpt from the Book:

Clun, England

February, 1839

Old Man Codger’s frozen toe rolled across the floor toward the door.

“Lord above. Mind the corner, sister,” Lucy muttered. She blew an errant curl from her cheek as they swung the man’s stiff body onto the scarred wooden table in front of the hearth. The body landed with a thud.

Blast. Lucy scanned the floor. Nothing. Where had it gone? She lifted her skirts.

“There you are,” she grumbled. The rogue digit rested between the scuffed heels of her old brown boots. Using the edge of one of the sleeves of her faded blue blouse, she leaned down and clutched the rather putrid, large hairy toe and placed it on the man’s chest. Now she’d have to sew on a toe, too. A frozen toe.

Perfect.

Priscilla covered her mouth with the back of her hand and yielded a dry retch. Plugging her nose, she rolled her eyes. “There has to be another way.”

Lucy eyed her pert younger sister and sighed. At thirteen, Cil was on the cusp of womanhood. There were so many things she would miss from their parents not being there to guide her. The guilt over the death of Mother and Father a month past stung like a barb under Lucy’s skin. If only she’d arrived home at the cottage sooner instead of lingering about the forest to find her pet starling. She banished the thought away.

After tying back her hair, Lucy pushed up her sleeves to the elbow. “If there had been any other option, we’d have done it. It’s either prep him for burial or starve. It’s just us now, Cil.”

The old man’s time in the woods had not been kind to him, but at least the extreme cold had kept the insects at bay. A white milky maggot dropped from his nose to the table. Lucy shuddered. Most of them. She loathed insects, especially worms. Things that could move without legs weren’t natural.

“Hand me the needle and thread.” Lucy rested her hands on her hips. “I need to get this toe sewn back on when he thaws. I’ll not be docked pay for him missing parts.”

About the Author

Jeanine Englert is a Golden Heart ® Finalist and Daphne du Maurier Award winner in historical romantic suspense. After years of writing in secret, she joined Romance Writers of America and Georgia Romance Writers in 2013 and has been an active member ever since. She writes Scottish Highland historicals and historical romantic suspense novels.

When she isn’t wrangling with her characters on the page, she can be found trying to convince her husband to watch her latest Masterpiece or BBC show obsession. She loves to talk about books, writing, her beloved pups, and of course mysteries with other readers on Twitter @JeanineWrites, Facebook, or at her website www.jeaninewrites.com.

Her debut novel, Lovely Digits, released in June of 2019 by Soul Mate Publishing, is a Victorian romantic suspense that won the 2017 Daphne du Maurier Award and was named a 2018 Golden Heart ® Finalist for best unpublished romantic suspense.

Where you can find her:

Website: www.jeaninewrites.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/JeanineWrites

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JeanineWrites

Letters to the Editor – May 1808

By Aunt Augusta

On June 8, 2019

In Amy Quinton, Teatime Tattler

1 May 1808

Haikus to the Editor

They call me harlot. 
For I got my belly full.
But I will survive.

They left me to die.
Fallen Lady in St. Giles.
A year on, I thrived.

Hunger, pain, and fear, 
Kept me company at night.
My thoughts on revenge.

The prince who trained me 
Coaxes vengeance in my heart.
Villains must be stopped.

This is my warning, to members of the Society for the Purification of England. We are coming for you.

Signed,

A Fallen Woman
London

5 May 1808

Have our standards truly sunk so low? Whereas once our superior paper printed articles on proper etiquette, interesting insights into the movements of Society, and important information regarding current events affecting our great nation. Must we now resort to reading the type of drivel that was posted on the 1^st of May? And from a self-proclaimed Jezebel, no less? What is happening in this great nation, when the words of a fallen woman are being forced upon persons of superior standing and greater morals?

This type of behavior—nay, this type of voice—leads to women having ideas. Demands. Entitlements.

What’s next, then? Women voting? Wearing trousers? Going to school?

This must stop, before our great nation falls to ruin!

Signed,

Hester T. Smythe
4 Poston Houses
Little Nottingshire, Sussex

6 May 1808

Hester, you old hag. Put a stocking in it.

Signed,

Lady Harriett Ross 
 —Self-proclaimed Matchmaking Motley Meddler 
 —Mistress of Destiny 
 —Wielder of the Infamous Umbrella 

Bloomfield Place Bath, England

I’m just an old woman with opinions. On everything.